100 Moments
by Kanae Valentine
Summary: Each and every moment is important. What you do in those moments is even more so.
1. Introduction

**This story will be a collection of (I hope) 100 'one-shots'. It centers mostly around the Turks, and even more closely around Rude, Reno, and my OC who is Reno's older sister that I mentioned in another of my stories _A Well-Intentioned Lie_.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

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**I. Introduction**

I have been training for four years. Training involves five key elements: firearms, explosives, secondary weapon, medical, and hand-to-hand combat.

Firearms? I have excelled at this almost since the first time my dad taught me how to aim and pull the trigger.

Medical? I am nearly qualified to be a field medic.

Secondary weapon? I show promise with a nightstick.

Explosives? I am... proficient... Passable at the least.

Hand-to-hand combat? I have no freakin' idea.

In fact, that is the _very_ section of training that is delaying my ability to do my final test.

To make matters _so_ much worse, in hand-to-hand combat training, I have been partnered with a 6'0" (at least), well-muscled new recruit. This guy is a steel-reinforced concrete wall given human form. And he's scary. Bald guy, always wears shades (even inside the building!), I wouldn't be surprised if when he got his ears pierced, the _metal_ didn't scream in pain. _That's _how intense this guy is all. the. time.

Did I mention he _never_ speaks? I'm kinda starting to think he's a mute, because no matter what I say, I am met by, '...' I mean, seriously? '...'

It's not like I _have_ to talk to survive but, mother frickin' Jenova! I' like to know _something_ about my training partner, aside from the fact that he kicks major ass in hand-to-hand combat. Typically mine.

But I don't give him and his smug silence the satisfaction of an easy victory. Not at all. If he's decided to irritate me by not talking, I retaliate by pulling myself off the mat until I am physically incapable of doing so.

Of course, that's also the reason why I am walking myself to the infirmary now... Yet, even as I look down at my swelling wrist that I cradle with my not _as_ hurt hand, I know it was worth it just for the single, small, quiet sound of disbelief when I kicked him in the shin.

Suddenly, I am on the floor, I am staring up at the ceiling, and I am in pain. I also feel a presence that sounds a lot like...

"..."

Rolling my eyes, I force myself to my feet. Just as I breeze past him, I stop and spin around in shock.

"Whadd'ya just say?!"

He sighs and then turns to look at me.

"My apologies."

For several moments, I merely blink at him, opening and closing my mouth like a fish as I try to find something to say.

"Ya _do_ speak?!"

Okay, slightly inflamatory, but it's a start.

With another sigh, he simply looks at me-at least I _think_ he does as the shades make it a little difficult to know for certain-and says "..."

Now it is my turn to sigh.

"Okay... Sorry. That was a little rude of me, I'll admit. Let's start over. I don't think I ever gotcha name."

"... It's Rude."

I frown. "Look, I apologize, okay? What else d'ya-"

"No," he shakes his head with a frustrated huff. "My name is Rude..."

"..."

"I know. You're going to say 'fitting' right?" an eyebrow raises above his shades even as the corners of his lips downturn ever-so-slightly.

"Actually, no. I was just thinkin' that I'm an idiot, and that I should just stop bortherin' ya."

Yet just as I attempt to walk away again, I stop and turn in exasperation.

"If ya gonna talk t'me, Rude, ya gotta speak up."

"... I said... that you don't bother me."

I snort, halfway mustering a scowl. "Seems like it most of the time."

The fact that he looks mildly hurt by the statement gives me pause.

"... I... I didn't mean it to seem that way..." he frowns, sounding almost like a kicked puppy.

Another sigh. "Okay. Let's restart one more time here." I clear my throat. "Hey. Name's Ariana, but most people just call me Ari."

I hold my hand out to him.

"Rude," he replies, almost completely engulfing my hand with his when he grasps it to shake.

"Nice t'meetcha. I'll be ya hand-t'-hand combat partner who can't brawl t'save her life."

As we release each other's hands, he answers with an unexpected statement.

"I admire you."

"... What?"

He nods. "I do. Now, I _know_ that you _realize_ you are outmatched, and yet you always stand back up... Why?"

With a smirk, I reply, "Honestly? 'cause I was tryin'a piss ya off enough for ya t'talk."

I swear his face just tinted pink.

"... My apologies... for your wrists... Especially the left one..."

Glancing down at my wrist again, I shrug. It's swelling more from the collision that sent me to the floor and left him standing. No big deal.

"Eh. It's no big deal."

"I didn't realize I had applied quite as much pressure as I obviously did..."

"Really, Rude. s'okay. Calm."

"... If you say so..."

"Well, I do, so cheer up, Shades."

"... '_Shades_'?"

"Hey, feel honored. I only give nicknames t'people I can at the least tolerate," I explain giving him a reassuring smile..

He at least _seems_ to relax and one corner of his mouth even _seems_ to upturn, though it could be a trick of the awful lighting in the hall...

"Hm... I suppose it's not the worst thing I've been called..."

Smile broadening, I nod. "It likely won't be ya _only_ nickname from me, but it was ya first so rememberize it."

He looks slightly perplexed-likely about my new word-and then nods.

"Aight. Well, I should probably continue to the infirmary, but I'll see ya t'morrow, I guess."

Again, I receive no more than a nod, but it doesn't really bother me as much now.

With a final smile, I turn and resume my walk to the infirmary.

Maybe he's not so scary, after all...

He's still freakin' intense, though.


	2. Complicated

**Here's another chapter, though not as quickly as I would have liked.**

**Enjoy.**

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**II. Complicated**

I just don't understand...

My little brother is a smart kid. He is _such _a smart kid.

And I don't just say that because he's _my_ lil bro. Completely seperate of that, I _know_ the kid is smart.

When we still lived in the slums, he would take apart watches, clocks, telephones (the list goes on and on) simply to learn how they work, and then he would reassemble them. He would hear something from me or dad, and he would ask us what it meant and then weeks or months later, correctly use what he had learned. He could explain why fire worked and how explosions happened in various circumstances and even some types of chemical reactions. Hell. I've even read some of his writing (not that he knows) and I know that he can write coherently.

He. Is. A. _Smart_. Kid.

So why on this **_PLANET_** am I looking at a report card with nothing but Fs?!

"Reno!"

"Yo," is the answer I receive from somewhere in the direction of his room.

"Please come here," I reply, trying to remain calm despite the fact that I've only just returned from my training and I am tired. So very tired.

He saunters into the room, shirt untucked, hands in his pockets, a disinterested look on his face.

"What?"

"What?" I say, eyebrow raising. "Funny. That was my question when I saw _this_."

I hold up the report card, turning it so that he can see what I hold.

He only stares at me.

"Yeah?"

"... 'Yeah'? 'YEAH'?" I repeat before slamming the paper down on the coffee table. "What is this?"

"My report card.

My eye twitches.

"I _realize_. Would you care to explain what all these little letters are on it?"

"They're my _grades_," he answers, sounding as though _I_ am the one with a problem.

"STOP with the act, Reno. You _know_ what I'm askin'. Why're all these grades to low?"

A shrug. He. shrugs. at. me.

"_Reno_. You are one of the smartest kids I know. Why in the _hell_ d'ya have grades this low? I'm tryin'a understand, but ya not makin' it easy for me..."

No answer. He simply continues to blink at me as if he is as dense as what his grades suggest.

Feeling tears of exhaustion and frustration sting my eyes-I am tired... So _very_ tired-I stand from my seat on one of the few chairs in the room.

"Fine, Mr. Tough Guy. Go back t'ya room. Stay in there but give me ya phone and whatever other electronics ya have."

This receives a reaction.

"What? Why d'ya need my phone?"

"Because children who act out and bring home bad grades get grounded. Grounded children who act out and bring home bad grades aren't allowed privileges like phones."

"Y' can't tell me what t'do," he retorts, jaw clenching and eyes narrowing.

"Yes, Reno. I can. Not only am I your legal guardian, I also just so happen t'pay the phone bill, the electric bill, the water bill, as well as everything else you ever use. So hand me your phone."

Eyes narrow further and become icy as he pulls his phone from his pocket and tosses it down on the coffee table.

"There's the damn phone," he says as he storms away.

"Reno!" I exclaim, shocked, not by the profanity but by the attitude, I follow him. "Who d'ya think ya are?"

Spinning on his heel to stop and face me, he glares.

"Who do _you_ think _you_ are? Hmm? My mom or dad? Newflash, both my parents are dead. _You're_ just my sister. When you're here. You talk about me bringin' home bad grades? Funny, I don't think I've had a _home_ for a long time. This' just a building where I live, _not_ a home. And don't pretend that ya actually care, Ariana. Don't even."

Though I know I should say something, I find myself lacking the ability, my throat feeling tight and tears beginning to string my eyes. At last, I fight it all back and clench my jaw to keep it back, then I speak as calmly and evenly as I can.

"Is that how you feel? Well. Good t'know. Now that you've said your piece, now I'll say mine. Go to your room and don't come out until I give you permission, am I clear?"

"_Crystal_."

With that, he spins back around and enters his room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the windows.

Even with him out of the room, I know the walls are thin and refuse to fall apart.

Slipping on my jacket and running shoes, I quietly open the door leading ouside, the chilled night air greeting me. After a moment, I step outside, closing and locking the door behind me.

When life gets difficult, some people give up. Others burrow down and ready for a fight. Then there are those who run away. Me? I just go for a walk and wonder when it all got so complicated.

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**Ah the years of teenage rebellion Reno must have had... Poor Ari just had to put up with it. Haha. :)**

**Hope everyone liked the chapter.**

**~Kanae~**


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